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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24600868">Heavily Spiced</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaelio/pseuds/kaelio'>kaelio</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cultural Misunderstandings, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:27:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24600868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaelio/pseuds/kaelio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian Bashir and Elim Garak have often bonded over multicultural cuisine.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julian Bashir/Elim Garak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>151</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Heavily Spiced</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DHW/gifts">DHW</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>tw: Discussion of animals as food and harm to animals in this process.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It was described as containing water-creatures.”</p><p>Julian nodded. “Yes, I did say that.”</p><p>“And that the ingredients would be high-quality. Fresh. In fact, that it was a matter of pride for the chef,” Garak continued, his tone uncharacteristically flat.</p><p>“I said that also, yes,” Julian affirmed. He felt his gaze fixed straight ahead, though there was nothing particular demanding his attention at end of the corridor. He kept his hands to himself, kept his feet on the mark, and—for once in his life—his words in check.</p><p>Garak turned up his nose slightly. “In fact, it was—according to Captain Sisko’s report—one of the driving motivations of the Maquis. Eddington asserted it was the right of mankind to consume the authentic ‘tomato’.”</p><p>“I won’t ask how you got that report, but yes. Or, traditionally farmed food, more specifically. Non-replicated.” His tone remained even, pleasant, and kind.</p><p>“And, as I mentioned, fresh.”</p><p>“You’ve got it, yes. Freshness is an important concept in much of human cuisine; our bodies are susceptible to toxins produced by many bacterial and fungal colonies, which readily grow on most Terran meat and produce,” Julian <em>re-</em>affirmed. At the current rate, it was set to occupy much of the walk back to their respective quarters. “And Captain Sisko himself told me, and many others, how sympathetic he was to the idea, having lent a hand in his father’s restaurant for so many years. So you’re absolutely, entirely, and unreservedly right to assume that Sisko values unusually fresh ingredients in very fresh preparations.”</p><p>His gray-skinned companion rolled it over in his mind, pensively. “Freshness is also considered ideal for Cardassian cuisine.”</p><p>Julian sucked on his lips. Garak was being <em>forthcoming.</em> He really was disturbed. “I’d gathered. Hence my—and that’s the key word, Garak, <em>my</em>—emphasis that the ingredients would be fresh, and that they’d be aquatic. Because it’s very much in keeping with Cardassian cuisine, to the best of my knowledge, I should say. Still some gaps, I’m certain.” He risked a glance. “Understanding other cultures, you know, it takes some time. I still bungle it myself.”</p><p>“But you had said ‘<em>jambalaya’</em> was heavily-spiced,” Garak reminded him. “This broth would have been <em>very</em> thin.”</p><p>“What is and isn’t a spice depends on the taste receptors unique to every species.” Julian smiled gingerly. “If you recall, I could hardly get a thing from <em>rih’heex.</em>”</p><p>“Cardassians have a more <em>sophisticated</em> palate for <em>refined</em> flavors.” It was defeatedly grumpy; it lacked its elegant edge.</p><p>Julian tried to dampen the smile, but now it broke free—just a little toothy. “And you just wanted a little preview. I could tell you liked them better than the jambalaya, didn’t you?”</p><p>Garak sighed heavily, but didn’t bother denying it.</p><p>“I was quite proud of you, how well you went on to choke it down. Not even a complaint—and compliments to the chef. I don’t know you had it in you to compliment anything served on this station.”</p><p>“It was really the least I could do at that point.”</p><p>“Jake will have new goldfish in a matter of weeks.” Julian bumped Garak playfully with his shoulder. “Am I allowed to be impressed that you caught them without anyone else noticing?”</p><p>Garak was not so easily won over. “I intend to verify the claim that they are a ‘common fish’.”</p><p>“They <em>are</em> a common fish, Garak. One of the commonest, most pedestrian of Terran fish and Terran pets. The traditional method of disposal was the toilet.”</p><p>Garak clenched his teeth. “<em>Really?</em> And not a Cardassian mouth?”</p><p>Julian looked to the ceiling. “I’m saying, it’s readily forgiven. They’ll come in on the next transport and he’ll hardly know the difference. Of course he was a little peeved, but, you know, that’s just… a hazard of cross-cultural exchanges? There’s bound to be some miscommunication. It wasn’t like it was, oh, his dog, or his pony….”</p><p>“I have no idea why what I did was less severe than having accidentally eaten his ‘dog’ or his ‘pony’, two completely alien creatures with which I have absolutely no more experience than your ostensibly humble ‘goldfish’. I know gold is quite valueless, but I <em>assume</em> it refers to the color.”</p><p>Julian wasn’t about to give up so readily. “Chalk it up to another matter of culture, then. I’m just saying, I wish you wouldn’t act as if this were some terrible ‘black mark’. If Jake had used the same bowl for a tarantula, Kira might well have made the same mistake, thinking it a bloody palukoo.”</p><p>“I hardly think so.” And still he moped. This was a <em>mope.</em></p><p>“Oh <em>no?</em> Then I’d ask Miles what happened to Christina.”</p><p>Garak didn’t answer.</p><p>They walked in silence just a while longer. “Garak, what’s the matter, really? I hardly see you spilling tears for a few small fish. And no one there was particularly put-off. Jadzia took it rollicking? Even the Captain was no more than a little annoyed. And he still served you the <em>actual</em> jambalaya.”</p><p>It took a while longer, but when the doctor was being—well, <em>warm</em>—it felt indefensible to remain cold. “It was simply the first time I’d been invited to your little event, and I certainly don’t expect it will happen again.”</p><p>“Why’s that, Garak?” He tried to hide the thrill in his voice. Finally—progress!</p><p>“Well I hardly see where you’d bring me along a second time after I’ve gone to the trouble of insulting the host and humiliating you in the process.”</p><p>“That’s what you’re worried about?” Julian tried to suppress his obvious relief. He touched Garak on the arm; his instincts told him so. “Garak, I’m not humiliated in the slightest, and even if I were, I humiliate myself so much that it’s nice to have someone else taking on the apprenticeship. It never even crossed my mind that I wouldn’t ask you back. Well, not over the goldfish, anyway. The jambalaya, perhaps. I don’t think Sisko is changing the recipe any time soon.”</p><p>He didn’t respond to that either.</p><p>“I’m just happy you came, even once. I’m always there by myself.”</p><p>Garak’s pace slowed, almost infinitesimally. “Well, perhaps you are better off bringing one of your lady-friends, leaving me to indulge in a few Terran ‘pretzel sticks’ at Quark’s as I endeavor not to disgrace myself in Morn’s presence.”</p><p>(But he could be so <em>dear</em> when he sulked.)</p><p>Julian stopped, and touched his fingertips to Garak’s shoulder. It could halt him in a heartbeat. (He could almost <em>hear</em> the heartbeat when he did.) He turned him around. “Is that the trouble, Garak?”</p><p>Those blue eyes flashed. They really did. “Trouble? I see no trouble. There is no trouble.”</p><p>(Liar.)</p><p>Julian leaned in and kissed him gently, briefly, on the lips.</p><p>Garak stood stunned.</p><p>“Well, Elim. You’re never a bit surprised when something terrible happens,” he said. “So I’m going to infer that you liked that, and I’m going to kiss you again.”</p><p>That time, it lasted somewhat longer. More reciprocally. More insistently.</p><p>Julian rubbed his lips with the ends of his longer, elegant fingers, having finally pulled away. He laughed. “I can taste it on you. The jambalaya.”</p><p>“… Ah. ….”</p><p>“You want to know a secret? It isn’t my favorite, either. But… there was another flavor in there. Something a bit more <em>sophisticated.</em> That might appeal to a <em>refined</em> palate.”</p><p>“Ah.”</p><p>“I don’t know if it’s quite to the level of a ‘traditionally farmed tomato’. But I have something in my quarters that I think sounds quite appealing.”</p><p>“R-remarkable.”</p><p>“Don’t imagine you’d like to end the day on a high note?”</p><p>“Doctor, dear…. I promised to accompany you this evening. Do show me where?”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(Christina was Miles O'Brien's pet tarantula on TNG.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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